


the free bird

by MaruruShipsIt



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02, father-daughter fluff because i'm WEAK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruruShipsIt/pseuds/MaruruShipsIt
Summary: “You are a free bird, my dear,” he tells her, “God would not dare to come between you and the things you love.”It is the day of Aethelflaed's marriage and Alfred is feeling conflicted about her leaving him.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia & Alfred the Great (849-899)
Kudos: 5
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	the free bird

By the time the moon rises above the horizon and sheds light upon her kingdom, the Lady Aethelflaed will be a married woman.

Alfred has seen her husband-to-be; he is an undeniably handsome man, fortunate in that he is smooth of cheek and generous of face. His eyes, however, harbor a unique twinkle that the king cannot deny sets an uneasiness in his gut, despite the man’s many merits. Lord Aethelred is to be the next ruler of his country if the rumours are to be believed, and Aethelflaed his queen so long as their wedding proceeds uninterrupted. The princess harbors high hopes for their marriage, he knows; she has held Alfred’s own relationship with his wife to standard for many years, and he only hopes that her fiancée will treat her with goodness. 

Alfred likes to think that he has never been the jealous type of man when it comes to his women, but to think that his daughter will be his no longer come the morn turns his stomach over with grief. He ruminates upon the loss for a long while, and ultimately his distracted mind costs him a victory in a game of tafl.

When his daughter knocks his king off the board and replaces it with her own, a beaming smile on her face, Alfred cannot even find it in him to be indignant, as the day is too full of cheer for woes and tears. “Walk with me, my dear,” he says to Aethelflaed when she glances to him with a questioning gleam in her eyes and readies the board for another match. She readily consents and they set on their way, the former with hands clasped loosely behind his back, the latter with her hands twined at her belly, fidgeting thumbs betraying her anticipation of the day’s events.

They stroll leisurely through the palace gardens, conversing politics and other rather unladylike pursuits as it is Alfred’s preference to see  _ all _ of his children blessed with bright minds and ready tongues. Fate takes them to the outskirts of his castle grounds, a well-looking sycamore tree granting them a cool shade as they sit together to watch the clouds pass by. The kingdom of Wessex is a beauty like none other, all rolling hills and green valleys, and it always fills Alfred with pride to see it flourishing before his eyes.

Aethelflaed points out specific shapes in the sky to him with great pleasure and for once the king allows himself to simply enjoy a peaceful moment with her. To see his daughter smile so readily at such mundanities warms his heart; she is and has always been a maiden at heart, undefiled by corruption or hardship.

“You will still be my daughter first and foremost when all is said and done,” Alfred says, and he hopes that it will be true with his entire heart. Aethelflaed lifts her head to the sky as a half-smile lightens her features.

“I am your daughter always,” she responds with a tinkling laugh, Alfred’s favourite sound. He wishes to appreciate it fully as she deserves, and would but for the fact that her wedding is nigh. With all of the emotions swirling in his belly, it’s possible that Alfred is more nervous for it than she, the bride-to-be, even.

Aethelflaed lifts her head to tuck a rippling strand of gold behind her ear as they are accosted by a gust of wind, and as her hand drops back to her side, Alfred catches it, drawing it in between them as his other moves to gently cup her cheek. “You are everything,” he says softly, another breeze catching the words before they can reach anybody else’s ears, as they are for her alone. “I would trade England for you in a heartbeat, and I hope that you know that.”

She rewards him with another half-smile, so lovely it illuminates her face like an angel’s halo. “Nothing should come between us if God wills it,” she says, squeezing his hand, “I would not have it be so.” Alfred would surely not either, as nothing would give him more pain.

“You are a free bird, my dear,” he tells her, “God would not dare to come between you and the things you love.” They sit in silence for a long while after that, lost in contemplation, and when the time comes for her to be given off to another man Alfred only hopes that he can do so with a light heart and unburdened soul.


End file.
